


Grimlock/Fulcrum shorts

by grimcognito



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers - MTMTE
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:47:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 9,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimcognito/pseuds/grimcognito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A compilation of fics too short to get their own post. Ranges in rating and plot, so check the notes on each story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Friendly Fire

A prompt from my tumblr asking for Grimlock/Fulcrum head scritches  
...............

He hadn’t actually thought it would work, but when you’re clinging to the shoulder of a gigantic Autobot that was too angry to tell the difference between friend and foe, you made do with what you had.

Fulcrum twisted as much as he could from where Grimlock had tossed him over his shoulder and dragged his fingers down the curve of Grimlock’s helm, scratching gently right behind the sharp finials. His words weren’t getting through, but hopefully his touch would. And really, there wasn’t much else he could do, not with a—thankfully small—hole blasted through his backstrut and one useless leg thanks to the damaged wires.

Grimlock paused for a moment, grunting in confusion at the new sensation. He caught Misfire ducking behind the rusted remains of an old warship and growled, taking the first step to start charging him, but a firmer rub at the base of his helm had him stumbling to a stop. “What you, Bomb, doing?”

Fulcrum vented a relieved huff of air and scratched his way back up over the curve of Grimlocks helm, noticing the rumble of powerful engines from the frame underneath him. “I’m trying to keep you from dismantling our crewmates. Really, Grimlock, it was an accident.”  
That earned him a growl, but apparently rubbing the edge of the crest on Grimlock’s helm was enough to keep him relatively calm. “Useless Jet shot Fulcrum. Grimlock crush Useless Jet!”

Misfire’s indignant voice carried around from his hiding place, though he was smart enough not to walk back out into the open. “How was I supposed to know that gun still worked!? It’s, like, three million years old! Not my fault the stupid thing went off and shot Pinhead.”

Grimlock was over the scrapheap of a ship hull and lifting Misfire up by his neck far faster than any mech that size should be able to. “You, Useless Jet, hurt Grimlock’s mate!”

Misfire gave a strangled laugh. “H-hey, well, at least it didn’t shoot him in the head, right?”

Slapping a hand to his face, Fulcrum rolled his optics skyward in a silent plea for some divine patience. “That was really not the best way to keep him from beating the coolant out of you.”

Misfire didn’t answer, probably because Grimlock’s grip had tightened and he could only squirm and clutch at the huge hand. Fulcrum looked over his shoulder and panicked. “Grimlock! Grimlock, stop!”

It wasn’t getting through, or Grimlock was angry enough to ignore him, so he resorted to desperate measures. He ran the tips of his fingers firmly over Grimlock’s helm as he traced the line of one finial with his glossa. Grimlock froze and Fulcrum twisted a bit too far, slipping with a yelp. Forgetting all about Misfire, Grimlock dropped him carelessly as he caught Fulcrum before he could slide from his shoulder.

Misfire landed hard with a clang and a shout. They both ignored him. Grimlock tilted his head into Fulcrum’s hands with a soft growl. Happy to keep Grimlock distracted, he kept up the scratching, nuzzling the side Grimlock’s mask.

“Grimlock, what do you say we head back so Spinster can fix me up? Then you can keep me company since I’ll probably be laid up for a few cycles.”

Grimlock hummed, a low, deep sound, and curled his other hand around Fulcrum, careful not to bump his wound. “Me, Grimlock will take Fulcrum to medbay. Useless Jet can stay and find more parts.”

Misfire’s cry of “What!?” fell on deaf audials. Grimlock because he was busy demanding more touches as he carried Fulcrum back toward their ship, and Fulcrum because, well, Misfire had shot him. His pity reserves were all dried up at the moment.


	2. Grievous Injuries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt asking for Grimlock demanding Fulcrum kisses for his booboos.
> 
> This is very early in their relationship, so Fulcrum still thinks he might get eaten at any moment.

Grimlock dropped the last enemy and stomped over to Fulcrum, who threw his arms over his head as if that would do anything if Grimlock actually wanted to kill him. Nothing happened, and he lowered his arms to find Grimlock just standing there, one arm held out to reveal a small cut barely shimmering with energon where someone had managed to nick him.

“Uh…” He wasn’t even sure what question to ask. Was Grimlock proud of the cut? Proud he avoided worse cuts? Who the pit knew?

Grimlock grumbled and shook his arm a bit, narrowing his optics. Fulcrum shrugged. “Sorry big guy, I’ve got no idea what you want.”

Misfire laughed as he strolled by, cheek dented and one optic cracked from the fight. “He wants you to kiss his boo-boo!”

“Seriously?” Fulcrum stared up at the massive mech in front of him. “It’s a scratch. A little scratch. You probably don’t even—”

“Kisses make better!” Grimlock insisted, cutting him off and thrusting his ‘injured’ arm right in front of Fulcrum’s face.

Fulcrum sighed and shook his head, but leaned in and pressed the quickest of kisses right over the cut. “I really shouldn’t have ever made that joke. There, better now?”

Grimlock dropped his arm and leaned in, face scant inches from Fulcrum’s and narrowed his eyes further. Fulcrum looked around for help, but everyone was either in the ship or too far away to do anything. If they cared. 

Just as he was about to ask Grimlock about his behavior, Grimlock tapped his facemask. Then did it again, and Fulcrum frowned, noticing an even smaller scratch. He snorted and rolled his optics. “If you wanted a kiss, you could just ask.” 

He curled a hand over Grimlock’s cheek and pressed a kiss to his facemask, grinning into it when large hands settled on his hips. The vibrations from Grimlock’s low growl of a voice hummed against his lips before he pulled away. “Fulcrum kisses make everything better.”


	3. Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plug-n-play and first time spark merging.

Fulcrum curled over Grimlock’s upper body, straddling his middle and his face pressed to the thick neck. Huge hands held him with surprising gentleness and he vented hot air as the blasting pleasure of their combined charge cycled through them both. He’d never been so grateful to have kept his old-fashioned interface array, which allowed for small, medium and large ports, just big enough for Grimlock’s cable to slot into. His own luckily fit into Grimlock’s smallest one and he dug his fingers into the edges of plating just to stay aware as he moaned, too caught up in the pleasure to even attempt moving. 

It was far from their first time interfacing, but this one was different, and he was balancing one a thin line between joy and panic when he felt the plating of Grimlock’s chassis begin to separate, the glow from within bursting through the widening gaps already.

Primus, but that was a bright spark, swirling and hot and tendrils snaking out to tease against his own frame. Fulcrum whimpered, pressing his face to Grimlock’s neck in thanks as waves of reassurance pour through their hardline connection. 

He’d never merged before, never wanted to, but there was something about what he had with Grimlock, something he wouldn’t mind keeping for the rest of his functioning life and he finally got the activation code through to his panicky system, feeling the slide and shift of plating rearranging, baring his own spark chamber. The chamber spiraled open slowly and he jerked in Grimlock’s steady hold, gasping as the first tendril of energy bridged the two sparks.

Grimlock growled a moan beneath him and the surge of bliss that came along with it nearly knocked him out of his own processor. His spark eagerly rolled forward and the merge was like a bolt of lightning, too much and too perfect and everything he’d ever imagined and then some. He screamed, his overload like an explosion through his system and Grimlock roared with him, the loop of energy pushing them higher and higher until it broke, and they slumped together, Fulcrum draped limply over Grimlock’s frame. 

He trembled, tried to press impossibly closer as hands stroked over his back and hips. No words were needed and he finally understood what it meant to not know where one ended and the other began. It was an indescribable sensation, so painfully glorious he couldn’t think of words to explain it. He could feel Grimlock’s amusement at that as if it were his own, as well as the clear thought that informed him he was thinking too much.

He chuckled and kissed the warm metal under his lips, wiggling until he was wrapped around Grimlock like a starfish. He hadn’t even known what a starfish was a moment ago, but there it was, the image clear in his mind as Grimlock supplied it.

His engine purred, answered by the berth-vibrating rumble of Grimlock’s own and he decided that this was what perfection felt like. Happiness. And he felt, knew without a doubt, Grimlock thought the same thing.


	4. Interruptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a brief bit of script and an awesome drawing by Succubii on her tumblr, you can see the post here:  
> http://paper-kraken.tumblr.com/post/67450684290/lexisgayarts-paper-kraken-is-making-me-ship
> 
> I also brought Flywheels back. Because he's a cutie.

Fulcrum squinted, trying to read the staticy readout on the outdated and cracked datapad they’d pulled from the slack grip of a mech long dead. When they’d turned it on after a couple hard knocks reactivated it—he was a technician, not a miracle worker, sometimes all one could do was hit it until it worked—there was a half finished request for emergency backup.

That coding was erased as quickly as he could manage, the last thing they needed—apart from everything else they were avoiding—was for some nosy Autobots to come searching for them. He finally managed to access a file with the locations to a nearby fueling port, probably destroyed but hopefully with a few supplies left to scavenge. He was waiting for the file to open, the thing was beyond ancient, when a shadow fell over him and Grimlock’s EM fields buzzed against his own as he stood close. 

There was a click of metal and he looked up to see Grimlock’s face, mask retracted and frowned a bit, wondering what—

“Me Grimlock want kiss.”

“I—what? Now?” Fulcrum looked in Crankcase’s direction, seeing the mech grumbling to himself as he dug through debris. “Can it wait for a bit? I’m in the middle of—”

“Me Grimlock want kiss now!” Grimlock demanded, loudly enough to get everyone’s attention. 

Crankcase glared, Krok didn’t even bother to acknowledge their existence, Spinster had startled at the shout and was aiming his gun at a dead mech, and Misfire whistled from around the side of the ship. “You been neglecting your mech, Pinhead!? Have a spark and give ‘im what he wants!”

Had he been closer, Fulcrum would have beaned him right between the optics with the near-useless data pad. Instead, he willfully ignored the catcalls, and Flywheels poking his head from the doorway of the ship asking what all the fuss was.

“Okay, okay! But seriously, Grimlock, why do you keep doing this while I’m working?”

The corner of Grimlock’s mouth lifted in a lopsided grin as he bent down to tap their forehelms together. “Me Grimlock lonely without you Fulcrum.”

How the Pit was he supposed to say no to that? Fulcrum probably had a stupid, dopey smile on his own face, but he didn’t care too much. “C’mere, you.” He said, hooking his fingers into Grimlock’s shoulder plating and tugging him down a little more for a kiss.

Huge arms wrapped around him and he was barely touching the ground with the tips of his pedes when Grimlock pulled him in, kissing back with a rumble of his engine, and not letting go until the sound of Fulcrum’s joined it.


	5. Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt asking for Grimlock carrying Fulcrum around after he injured himself while failing to blow up the DJD.

Fulcrum slowly, painfully struggled to his feet, his systems pinging him with relentless damage reports from some major injuries that needed the most immediate tending to, to the smallest new ding. He could hear Misfire trying to communicate with Grimlock, who apparently could only manage his own name after some serious effort, as he made it to hiss feet. Misfire called a huddle, and Fulcrum nearly snorted at the short distance between him and the gathered group. By the time he made it over there the discussion would be over.

He *did* notice that Grimlock had rolled to his feet and stood up, glancing around at all of them, looking a bit lost, and then zeroing in on Fulcrum. 

Oh slag, he was the straggler, the one that got picked off. There was no way he’d be able to run in time, and he didn’t know the rest of the scavengers well enough to assume they’d do more than step out of the dinobot’s way. “Uh, guys?”

They ignored him, stage-whispering to each other as Grimlock walked past them. Fulcrum tried again, but his knee tweaked and shot pain up his leg when he tried to step back, and he lost his balance. His words were cut off with a short cry of pain, that became a shriek when Grimlock dove for him. 

Instead of pain, though, he found himself supported by huge hands, holding him so he wouldn’t hit the ground. His shriek had finally gotten the group’s attention and they stared at the strange scene. Fulcrum was too busy staring up at Grimlock with wide optics, the Autobot just watching him right back

There was a lot of staring in general. “Uh.” Fulcrum croaked out, not sure what else to say, but even more unsure about the strange stillness of it all. “Thanks?” 

Grimlock tilted his head. “Me…Grimlock.”

“I—uh, yes. Hello.” 

“You bomb.”

“Ah, okay, that’s true, but-” 

“Bomb… scare off Decep-Decepticons.”

“I wouldn’t say I scared them, so much-“ 

“Bomb save Grimlock.”

Fulcrum paused, not sure what to say to that. He hadn’t intended on saving the Autobot, per say, but the scavengers, but he supposed it was true. It didn’t help that he was still held in an awkward half-dip, unable to get his balance, but held securely in Grimlock’s grasp. “Oh, well… you’re welcome, I suppose.” 

That didn’t seem to satisfy Grimlock, who seemed to give off the air of frowning despite his mask. “Bomb hurt now.”

“Well, isn’t he a master of observation? Though, at least he can manage sentences. Tiny sentences.” Misfire broke in, and Fulcrum realized the group was still staring at them. He flailed a little, trying to balance his weight on his pedes, but Grimlock simply scooped him up into his arms and turned to face the others. 

“Bomb hurt.”

Crankcase grunted. “Yeah, well he’s not the only one hurt.” He looked down at Krok laying limp in his arms and back up at where Grimlock was copying him exactly with Fulcrum and scowled harder. 

Spinster was staring off at a rock suspiciously, mumbling to himself.

Misfire ignored it all and clapped his hands together, grinning wide. “It’s settled then! You can carry, uh, Bomb there to the ship and we’ll see what we can do about that damage, so long as you promise not to eat us and to smash anyone who comes after us. Sound like a plan? Good!” 

“Pit ta Primus, you’re an idiot.” Crankcase growled, though he was already walking back in the direction of the ship. “We’re all going to die. Horribly. Painfully. And it’ll be your fault.”

“If you say so!” 

Fulcrum frowned, crossing his arms where he was held against Grimlock’s chassis. “Don’t I get a say in this?”

“Nope!” Was Misfire’s over-the-shoulder answer. Fulcrum vented a sigh and slumped. At least he wasn’t dead. Yet. He looked up at Grimlock, who was staring down at him silently. “What?” 

“Me Grimlock keep Bomb safe.”

Fulcrum blinked, then huffed again. “Well… alright then.” 

Grimlock seemed satisfied with that, his visor brightening as he moved to follow the others back to the ship.


	6. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt asking for more helm-kisses, which I was quite happy to provide!

Fulcrum was jolted back into awareness when a weight slammed into his less-than-sturdy berth. He sat up with a startled gasp, optics snapping open, flickering briefly before the glow stayed. “Wha-! Grimlock?”

Grimlock was right next o the berth, kneeling down to be on Fulcrum’s level, his fields fluxing wildly in distress. His hands were clenched on the edge of the berth, denting the metal, and that was probably what had woken him. Shoulders slumping as his spark settled back into it’s proper place, and not pulsing wildly at the sudden fright. 

“What’s wrong, Grim, another nightmare?” He crossed his legs and leaned forward to pull Grimlock’s head to his frame, wrapping his arms around Grimlock’s neck and rubbing his cheek against the dark helm. “You’re okay now, I’ve got you.”

Grimlock curled his arms around Fulcrum’s hips and pulled him closer, pressing his masked face to Fulcrum chassis. “Grimlock remember. Watch others get tortured. Me Grimlock couldn’t help!” 

Fulcrum held tighter, turning his head to press soft kisses against the warm metal of Grimlock’s helm. “You’re not there anymore, Grim, You’re right here, with us.” He shuddered at Grimlock’s simple description, all too aware of what it was like to have memory purges in the middle of recharge, of the torture and pain and watching others go through the same. Grimlock was a mech of action, and he protected his own, fiercely. A lot of his allies had been on Garrus 9.

Grimlock leaned into the kisses, engine calming into a low rumble as he slowly began to relax. “Me Grimlock keep Scavengers safe. Keep Bomb safe.” 

He smiled at the nickname, resting his lips against one audial fin and nuzzling a little. “I know, Grim. You always make me feel safe. Want me to sleep with you? I don’t think this berth could hold me up if I drank a full cube of energon, but yours is big enough for both of us.”

In answer, he was hefted up and held to Grimlock’s chest with a happy growl. Fulcrum laughed, patting the nearest bit of plating. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Grimlock walked them back to his corner, where he’d made a sort of nest out of softer scraps and fabric mesh, curling up with Fulcrum and hitching him up high enough to rest his head over Fulcrum’s spark chamber. Fulcrum smiled softly, optics dim, and kissed his helm one last time before laying back, hand stroking over Grimlock’s neck as they both slowly powered down again.


	7. Space Robot Jenga

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt asking for Fulcrum to throw a match of Jenga so Grimlock could win a round for once.

Grimlock rumbled to himself, all of his concentration focused on his immediate objective. He very gently pushed at one of the rectangular sticks, trying to ease it far enough that he could grab it from the other side. Almost! He pushed a little to hard, as always, and the stack toppled over.

He vented a sigh, visor a bit dimmer as he looked down at the pile, his second loss in a depressingly short amount of time. He perked up a bit when Fulcrum smiled at him, nimble hands rebuilding the structure once more. 

“Let’s go one more round, you’re getting the hang of it now.”

Grimlock nodded, visor bright once more, and watched as the last few sticks were placed on top. Fulcrum made the first move, easily pushing a stick through and catching it in his other hand. Grimlock stared at the small structure for a moment, then decided to try something new, and carefully pulled one free from the side. It was much easier for him to do, and nothing fell over! 

It also earned him a grin from Fulcrum, which made everything better.

They played for the next few minutes, piece by piece being removed until things started getting shaky. Grimlock huffed and leaned, looking at it from every angle before sliding a stick free. The structure wobbled for a moment, then stopped and Grimlock relaxed from his rigid pose. Fulcrum also looked at it critically, tapping his chin and humming to himself as he debated what to take. Finally, he picked a stick and lightly tugged it free. It tipped, leaning and after an oddly slow topple, it collapsed into a heap of sticks. 

Grimlock just stared for a moment, then his visor lit up and he let out a startled laugh of excitement. “Me Grimlock win!”

Fulcrum chuckled, catching a couple of stray sticks before they fell to the ground. “You sure did, Grim. Now, I seem to remember something about a reward for win—“ He was cut off as a face mask pressed against his mouth. He snorted and rolled his optics. “You forgot a step.” 

Grimlock retracted his mask and their mouths met in a warm kiss, his large hands scattering the sticks carelessly as he leaned forward, more than happy to take his reward.


	8. Stuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt asking for Grimlock to get his head stuck trying to fit through a too-small space.

Fulcrum jumped when Misfire burst out from around a corner of the dilapidated ship they were searching through, cackling too hard to watch where he was going and running into a wall. What kind of Pit-spawned circuit speeders had he gotten into this time? “Do I even want to know?” He held up a hand. “How many fingers do you see?”

Misfire was doubled over, still laughing, but managed to raise a hand and reply with a single middle finger. He got himself mostly under control, leaning against the wall he’d run into with a huge grin, optics bright with amusement. ‘I told him it wouldn’t work! And, okay, maybe I said few other, less polite things, but really! There not much respect you can get in a position like that!”

“What are you talking about?” Fulcrum rubbed a hand over his face, finding it hard as ever to keep up with whatever Misfire was going on about this time. “Who? Where?” 

A furious roar reverberated through the ship and Misfire collapsed into another fit of giggles. Fulcrum froze. “What did you do?”

“Nothing! The big idiot stuck his head in a hole that was barely big enough for me! He just didn’t like that I pointed out how dumb it was.” 

Fulcrum sighed, shaking his head and shoving the lock-box he’d been trying to open into Misfire’s arms, taking a bit of pleasure in the wince it caused. “You figure out how to open this, I’ll go help the teammate you apparently just abandoned. And, I would suggest staying out of his sights for a bit,” another roar from down the hall, “I doubt he thinks this is as funny as you do.”

Misfire called after him as he followed the noises. “Where the pit am I gonna hide on our tiny ship!?” 

“Should have thought about that earlier!” he yelled back over his shoulder, happy to leave Misfire to ponder his possibly short future. Another roar, this one petered out into a whine though, and Fulcrum turned the corner to find Grimlock—well, Grimlock’s head—very much stuck in a hole in the wall.

Sad optics looked up at him and Grimlock grumbled lowly. “Me Grimlock stuck. You Bomb help?” 

Fulcrum leaned down to stroke a hand over Grimlock’s snout. “Yeah, Grim, I’ll help. I’m going to check the other side, okay? Don’t swing your tail at me.”

He peered around and found the doorway, blocked by a collapsed wall a little further down the hall. He braced his shoulder against it and shoved, the metal slowly shifting away with a deafening screech. 

Grimlock tried to turn his head to see, growling in frustration when he couldn’t. “Bomb okay!?”

“I’m alright Grimlock! Just needed to move some scrap out of the way.” He made enough space to slip through the door and saw the whole other side of the room was gone. He could see the other half of the ship across the way. Clearly Misfire and Grimlock had come around and gotten in from this side. 

He turned, and saw why Grimlock couldn’t seem to get free. The flooring was warped and he’d had to lean down to fit his head through the hole trying to follow Misfire. When his head had gotten stuck, he didn’t have the leverage to pull free, or even enough even ground to brace himself to break through the metal.

“Alright, Grim, I’m right here next to you, I’m going to help you out, but you’ve got to follow my instructions.” 

“Grimlock trust Fulcrum.” He got in reply, Grimlock’s tail waving slightly in the air.

Fulcrum rubbed his forehelm against Grimlock’s side for a moment. Grimlock only used his real name when they were alone, well, as alone as they could manage when crowded with the others on the ship. “Goes both ways, Grimlock.” He glanced around and saw a broken pipe on the floor, grabbed it and moved to the hole where Grimlock’s head was stuck. “Okay, I’m going to widen this a bit, hold still.” 

He managed to peel back the edges a bit more, putting all of his weight into it, and dropped the pipe. “Instead of going forward, I want you to lower your head a bit, can you do that?”

Grimlock rumbled, dropping his head down the little bit that he could in the space Fulcrum had widened. 

“Good! Now, stay low and slowly step back, you should be able to get out now.”

Grimlock shuffled backward, wiggling his head a bit until it popped free with a few extra scratches. He shook his head, then butted it against Fulcrum, who wrapped his arms around Grimlock’s snout in a hug. “Me Grimlock love Fulcrum!” 

“I love you too, Grim.” He said, pressing a kiss between Grimlock’s eyes. “Maybe next time you find the door instead of following Misfire, huh?”

Grimlock pulled his head away with a snarl, looking around for the jet. “Where Useless Jet? Grimlock crush Useless Jet!” 

Fulcrum just patted Grimlock’s side leading him out the blasted half of the room to go the long way around. “How about we go explore the other half of the ship first? We can stay together this time.”

That caught Grimlock’s attention and he lumbered along behind Fulcrum. “Can me Grimlock have kisses too?” 

Fulcrum laughed. “Yes, Grim, you can have kisses—after we search—though, it’s easier if your not in your alt-mode.”

Grimlock transformed and scooped Fulcrum up with one arm, slinging him over a shoulder and running to the other half of the ship. “Grimlock and Bomb search quickly!” 

Fulcrum just laughed.


	9. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt asking for Fulcrum to be frustrated with something and Grimlock cheering him up.

Grimlock was much smarter than most anyone gave him credit for. His time as a prisoner had damaged him, yes, but his processor was just as functional as anyone else’s. Whether his speech problem was due to torture, damage or if it was like that before, none of them knew, and his pauses before answering led most to think he was stupid, but Fulcrum knew better than the rest. Grimlock was smart, even if his thinking was rather straight forward.

He’d discovered that the first time they interfaced, plugging his systems into Grimlock’s had opened up a whole different level of communication and he’d been able to see the way Grimlock actually saw the world and understood things. Not so different than Fulcrum himself, though, with far more ‘fight’ than Fulcrum’s default ‘flight’ mentality.

So when he seated himself next to Fulcrum on the downed little jumper ship that they’d found in surprisingly good shape, the chair far too small for his frame, he paused his irritated grumbles to look. Grimlock was sitting in front of a broken screen, just staring. Fulcrum frowned, then shook his head and turned back to his own, mildly-more-functional screen, typing away, only half of the buttons working, and soon enough began grumbling to himself again in annoyance.

It took a while before he noticed it, but Grimlock was copying his actions, tapping at similar keys and shaking his head back in forth as he mimicked Fulcrum’s muttering, even throwing his hands up at the same time as Fucrum did, dropping them with a dramatic wail. Fulcrum couldn’t help but snicker, even as frustrated as he was with the ship’s controls.

“You’re distracting me, Grimlock, how am I supposed to fix this with you joking around?”

Grimlock gave him the most skeptical look he’d ever seen on a mech with a mask and visor. “Computer broken.”

“I’m well aware of that, thank you.” Fulcrum grumped, slumping back down into his chair. He couldn’t keep the frown though, not with Grimlock hunched over in the small chair and looking at him all amused. “What?”

“Me Grimlock think Bomb need break.”

Fulcrum glanced between the screen and Grimlock a few times, then snorted and hopped off his seat. “Yeah, I think you’re right. maybe It’ll work better if I come back later.”

“If Bomb say so.”

“Hush, you.” He said with a laugh, rapping his knuckles against Grimlock’s arm, heading out to see what trouble the others had managed to get themselves into.


	10. Hot Springs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt for cute bath times! Since I doubt their ship has room for washracks, I got a little creative, and this is about half Krok/Spinster and half Grimlock/Fulcrum

They landed on the moon more out of Krok’s need to get the frag away from the craziness of too many off-kilter mechs in too small a ship than any real need to stop. For once, luck seemed to be with them though, and after exploring a bit, Spinster found a hidden oasis of dozens of hot oil pools.

Misfire was the first to try them out, leaping into the first one with a whoop of excitement, and thoroughly splashing Krok, who’d been at the edge about to test it in case it was acidic. 

Well, he thought to himself, they’d find out soon enough now. When Misfire continued to splash around like a deranged sparkling without melting or being eaten by some pool-lurking monster, the others decided it was safe enough to join in.

He was already up to his knee joints when he remembered the point of this stop had been to get *away* from the others, but now that they weren’t pestering him in particular, he didn’t mind so much. It helped that when he waded all the way in, Spinster hooked one long arm around his middle and pulled him close, sitting back with Krok on his lap.

Normally, he kept some distance between the two of them in front of the crew, but Spinster’s legs propped him just high enough to lean back against Spinster’s chassis and be submerged up to his neck. It was damned glorious, all in all, and he could feel the tension melting away as the hot oil eased into his joints and wires.

Optics half-shuttered, he watched the rest of the crew. Misfire, Crankcase and Flywheels had taken over another pool, Misfire and Flywheels having a splash fight while Crankcase complained about it, but noticeably didn’t leave.

Fulcrum was across the same pool as him, it was more than wide enough for the K-class and Grimlock, who stood placidly as Fulcrum scooped up oil in his hands and poured it over plating that wasn’t submerged. Only Fulcrum seemed to have that particular hold over Grimlock, who followed his directions to lift his arm or bend a little this way or that. Grimlock complied to each one with a low rumble or short comment, and his visor would go dim when Fulcrum eased warm oil into tense joints. He even scrubbed the dinobot down with his hands, bringing out a hint of shine on Grimlock’s plating.

Krok shifted a little, getting more comfortable against Spinster, who seemed to have drifted off, head tilted back against the edge of the pool. Krok shook his head but stayed quiet, content to watch his crew actually enjoying themselves for once. Even Crankcase had a bit of a smile when Flywheels tackled Misfire into the oil and held him down to shut him up for a bit.

Grimlock had taken Fulcrum by the waist and lifted him up so the K-class could wash his helm and shoulders as well, rumbling happily as he was scrubbed. Once he was done he returned the favor as best he could, large hands wiping at Fulcrum’s plating and scooping far more oil than Fulcrum had managed, pouring over Fulcrum’s head and shoulders. 

Fulcrum was grinning and plastered himself to Grimlock’s front, hugging him, then squeaking as he slipped, his hold on Grimlock too slippery to be of any help as he splashed face first into the oil.

Krok snickered as Grimlock fished him back out, visor bright as he hugged a dripping Fulcrum to his chest and tapping their forehelms together. Shaking his head, Krok left them to their nonsense, resting his head against Spinster’s shoulder as he dimmed his optics and half-dozed.


	11. Misfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grimlock saves Misfire from certain death. 
> 
> Thanks to Succubii for the awesome suggestion about having G1 Breakdown be Misfire's other half, since he was feeling like the fifth wheel for a while there. How Breakdown joined the Scavengers is part of a larger story in the works.

Misfire fell back and shuttered his optics, despite his best efforts to face his death head on, as a massive chunk of some decrepit building fell toward him. His leg was caught in a trap that only clamped tighter the more he struggled, and his wings had been dented in the grip of one ugly slagger’s giant hands earlier. His only thought--apart from the cursing that was streaming from his vocalizer without a filter—was that at least it wasn’t the DJD.

The ground trembled around him, and he wondered with a vague sort of curiosity, if he had died so quickly he was still feeling it as a ghost. But no, his leg still hurt from the trap, and he didn’t *feel* any deader than usual. He peeked through his fingers to see Grimlock standing over him, the massive hunk of concrete held above his head where he’d caught it. 

Grimlock roared as he threw the chunk of building right back at the—whatever these creatures were—and Misfire relished the look of shocked outrage right before it landed on the alien. “Ha! Show’s you! Grimmy, you came to save me! Does that mean we’re friends—ouch, ouchouchouch! I like my leg where it is, thanks!”

Misfire’s shouts were ignored as Grimlock yanked him free of the trap with a squeal of metal and minus several metal shavings from his plating. He stared down at the sad state of his leg, easy to see as his pedes were dangling a good amount above the ground as Grimlock held him up. “Was that really the only solution? I’m pretty sure there were other options. A little grease would’ve done the job.”

Grimlock snorted and dropped him back on his pedes. “Bomb says Useless Jet is his friend. Only me Grimlock allowed to beat up Useless Jet.”

“Well,” Misfire grumbled as he limped quickly after Grimlock, “good to know I mean so much to you.”

Grimlock just laughed, patting him roughly on the head, Misfire failing to swat his hands away. Fulcrum met them halfway back to the ship. “Oh good! You’re alive.”

“I sure can feel the love, Pinhead.” 

Fulcrum rolled his optics, hands on his hips. “You’re the one who was so sure you could ‘connect’ with the natives. It’s what you get for running off like an idiot.”

“I almost died!”

“Good thing Grimlock is excellent at tracking, then, huh?” Fulcrum crossed his arms, clearly not impressed. Grimlock was quiet, but his fields were amused. Misfire gave him a dirty look. 

“Not cool, losers. Not cool.” He moved past them to the ship, where Breakdown was wringing his hands and all but doing a panicky little dance near the open bay doors. 

As soon as he saw Misfire though, he was off like a rocket, dashing to hug him, though it felt more like a tackle. “Oh, Primus, your wings! Your leg! Are you okay? No, that’s a dumb question, you’re not really okay if you’re all injured—but you’re back! And alive! And walking! That’s kind of okay, right?”

Misfire wrapped his arms tightly around the worried mech, who’s hands wandered over every dent with a little sound of concern. “Woah, hey, calm down, I’m fine. Well, kind of. Mostly. Much better now!”

Breakdown looked up at him, optics bright with worry. “Really?”

“Oh yeah! Nothing Spinster can’t hammer out real quick!” He said with a grin, proud to see the little lift of a smile at the edge of Breakdown’s mouth. 

At least until Fulcrum came by and ruined it, the slagger grinning over Grimlock’s shoulder as he was carried inside. “What about, ‘I almost died!’?”

“You almost died!?”

Frag it. He was going to hide a glitter grenade under Fulcrum’s bed. Soon as he was done calming down Breakdown again.


	12. Hide-Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt asking for 'Grimlock comforting an upset Fulcrum who is hiding in the vents.'

Fulcrum curled up in the back of the vent, glad for his small frame for once, and ignored Misfire’s less than appealing attempts to goad him back out. He was still laughing at him for one.

It was bad enough to be trapped in a frame he hated—how much more useless than a dud-bomb could an alt-mode be? But discovering that a short stumble down stairs would activate the auto-transform sequence was the final metal shaving on the scrapheap. Misfire’s tiny rigged explosion of decorative sparkers he’d found *somewhere* had startled him badly enough to stumbled back down a small mountain of scrap and, well, when he hit the bottom he was stuck in bomb-mode.

It took a while to get back out and for a panicky moment he thought he’d be stuck. Misfire had been no help, and the others were off in other directions. Storming away after and leaving Misfire to finish the job himself had been an empty revenge, but revenge none the less. And now, here he was, still fuming and refusing to budge from his hiding spot.

Misfire’s muffled voice was cut off with a yelp and a clang, and suddenly a wide snout shoved up into the vent, and Grimlock’s familiar growling voice spoke up. “Useless Jet hurt Bomb? Want me Grimlock hurt Useless Jet?”

It was sorely tempting, but Fulcrum didn’t want to seriously injure Misfire, much as the mech deserved a swift kick in the aft. “No thanks, Grimlock. I’m, well, not fine, but I’m not hurt.”

The snout moved away and Grimlock turned his head to peer into the vent with one glowing red optic. “You Bomb sure you’re not hurt?”

Fulcrum finally cracked a smile, crawling forward enough to pat Grimlock on the head. “Not hurt, I just needed some time alone.”

“Want me Grimlock to leave?” Grimlock pushed his head up into the touch and Fulcrum laid down on his front , kicking his pedes in the air lazily as he kept petting with one hand. 

“Nah, you can stay, Grimlock, I don’t mind having you around.”

Grimlock’s optics went bright with happiness and he managed to make a growl sound cheerful. “Then me Grimlock make sure no one bothers you Fulcrum!”

Charmed, and mood much lighter with Grimlock around, Fulcrum leaned far enough to plant a kiss to Grimlock’s snout in thanks. “Just for a little while. I’m feeling better already. Is Krok mad?”

Grimlock laughed. “Him Krok yelling at Useless Jet!”

Fulcrum just patted Grimlock’s snout again, smiling to himself. Served the jerk right.


	13. War Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt again, slowly making my way down the list!
> 
> Grimlock loves to hear Fulcrum read old war stories.

Fulcrum looked around the tiny walk-space that separated the rooms of the ship, the control center in the front, the engine room in the back, and on either side were the bunking quarters across from the open rec room. Tiny, but not much smaller than the K-Class housing, and with much fewer mechs filling it up. The hall was empty and he grinned, holding the data pads above his head like a prize as he announced loudly, “Got some new ones!”

There was the sound of metal shifting against metal, and the heavy thud of pedes as Grimlock poked his head out from inside the engine room, visor bright. “Stories?” He took in Fulcrum with his data pads. “Stories!”

Fulcrum laughed, shuttering his optics as he braced himself, feeling the floor vibrate under Grimlock’s quick strides until an arm wrapped around his waist and hefted him up with ease. Grimlock rumbled happily as he spun on his heel and stomped right back into the engine room with Fulcrum held to his chest, ignoring Crankcase’s shouted complaints about interrupted recharge and Krok’s grumbling from the pilot’s seat as he checked the ship’s systems for launch. Fulcrum saw him smack Misfire across the back of the helm for not helping just as Grimlock carried him through the door to the engine room. 

It was warmer here, and was the only room big enough for Grimlock to curl up in his dino-form and not squash anyone or break anything. There was a slapped-together berth with piles of mismatched mesh to make it passingly comfortable. It looked more like a nest than anything. Grimlock set him down on one side of it and climbed in after him, sitting down and tugging Fulcrum onto his lap. “Me Grimlock love when Bomb tells stories!”


	14. Best Served Hot

Grimlock struggled to free himself, his lower body trapped under too much debris to move, but it was futile, the rogue cons they’d run into already scavenging a battlefield had been ready to fight off intruders, and had bomb traps set in the ships. The slaggers had led him right into one. A smaller mech would be dead.

He could hear them now, returning to finish him off if the bombs hadn’t. He couldn’t get any real leverage with his small upper arms, so he settled in to wait, dimming his optics in a rare show of tactic rather than his usual rage and smash. 

“Lookit what we got here, boys! Looks like we took down a real famous Autobot! Guess the rumors were a little exaggerated about how good he was, huh? Pathetic.” Grimlock managed to control his anger, even when a pede slammed into his side, followed by a chorus of ugly laughter. 

“We can keep his head! No one will mess with us then! And imagine how much fuel we can drain from that huge frame!” Another voice piped in, staticy, probably lingering damage from some other fight. 

At least the third one was smart enough to be concerned. “J-just shut up and finish him off! You idiots can brag after, but--”

“But nothin’! Stupid slagger isn’t goin’ anywhere.” Another kick, this time Grimlock growled a little. “Oh ho! Still alive? Not for long you big piece of scrap. It’s nice to see one of you on the floor at my pedes for once. Right where you belong.”

Grimlock growled again, clawing at the floor ineffectively. The apparent ring-leader laughed again, and Grimlock wanted to rip his vocalizer out and make him eat it. The nervous one piped up again. “Come on, Smokestack! Before he-he-I dunno, but it’ll be bad! Just kill him!”

“Shut up! He can’t even move! What’s he going to do, you idiot? Snap his mighty jaws? Long as you don’t stick your pede in his mouth it won’t help him one bit! The only other one that would have caused real trouble was that K-class, but he won’t be a problem anymore, stupid slagger was a dud anyway.”

The other snickered. “It was fun to see him fall though.”

Grimlock was suddenly done playing weak. They had hurt Fulcrum. They *hurt* Fulcrum. 

They moved, and he could feel the vibrations of their pedes as they grouped together to stare at him. Perfect. 

Grimlock started to chuckle, a low, dark sound, and the Cons fell silent. “Decepticons think me Grimlock helpless.” He heard the tell-tale click of a vocalizer shutting off and his optics brightened to bright, blazing points or red light. One of them let out a quiet gasp and he laughed again. “Decepticons make big mistake.”

He just had to tilt his head up a little and opened his mouth wide, watching all three sets of optics go wide with fear at the bright glow within before fire poured from his jaws. They had trapped themselves against a wall without even knowing it and clawed ineffectively at it as they were engulfed in flames, dead in moments.

Grimlock roared, furious, and more flames rolled over the charred frames. He clawed at the floor, roaring until the clatter of pedes came from down the hall. “Grimlock! Grimlock!”

He stopped, vents straining to cool his systems. “Bomb?”

“Primus, Grimlock, are you badly damaged? I thought you were--oh, oh slag, is that…? Well, I can’t say I’m going to miss them.” Fulcrum came into his line of vision, and Grimlock strained to reach him. Fulcrum hurried over and throwing his arms around Grimlock’s neck. “They’re dead, Grim, really really dead. You can stop now.”

“Me Grimlock thought…they said they dropped you Fulcrum! Hurt Bomb!”

“Oh, slag, Grimlock, I’m okay! I promise, look, see, I’m all in one piece. Maybe a bit more dented than I’d like, but Misfire managed to catch me before I landed.” He pressed his face to Grimlock’s, petting hot plating along Grimlock’s neck. “I’m okay, Grimlock. And once the others get here--Misfire went to go help Krok and the others pry open the room they were locked in--we’ll get you unburied.”

“Me Grimlock make sure Decepticons not hurt anyone again!”

“And a fine job you did, Grimlock. I’m sure their sparks won’t be able to forget that when they make it to the Well. Primus’ll give them a good talking to.” He kissed above Grimlock’s optic, earning a low rumble as Grimlock calmed down. 

“Protect Bomb.” His voice was determined, and Fulcrum hugged tighter. 

“You did, Grim, you did.” He smiled a little. “But you’ll have to thank Misfire too.”

Grimlock huffed grumpily. “Me Grimlock guess so. But want more kisses first.” Fulcrum laughed and happily covered his face with kisses.


	15. First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW, tactile plug-n-play 
> 
> Prompt fill for someone who asked for their first time. 
> 
> Grimlock and Fulcrum interface for the first time and Fulcrum learns something new.

Fulcrum gasped, legs tightening against Grimlock’s sides as he arched under the surprisingly deft fingers stroking the seams of his backstrut. The deep, constant rumble from Grimlock’s frame was sending wonderful vibrations right through his own and his optics dimmed with pleasure. He slipped much smaller fingers into gaps between plating and transformation seams, stroking along sensitive wiring underneath, their combined EM fields buzzing against their heated frames.

Grimlock growled and slid a thumb firmly across the larger gap between thigh and pelvic plating. Fulcrum shivered, small arcs of energy jumping between their frames where they were pressed together. Straddling Grimlock’s lap, he had access to everything he could possibly want to touch without having to jump to get to it, and with a grin he reached up to rub his fingers against Grimlock’s sharp finials. 

The hands on him tightened and pulled him closer, more little bridges of bright energy jumping between them, and Fulcrum dropped his forehelm to Grimlock’s chest with a static-filled moan. He scraped a hand over Grimlock’s panel, teasing at the edges until it clicked open and slid to the side to reveal his array. Three ports, thank Primus. It was the same model he had. He shuddered as Grimlock nudged his head up and nuzzled along his neck, hot vents blowing over thin, sensory-dense metal. 

His own panel clicked open and he bit out a curse as one rough finger circled his largest port. “Pit to Primus, Grimlock, we haven’t even plugged in and I’m about to fry a circuit or two.” An approving rumble from Grimlock, more vibrations, and his own optics nearly flickered out. 

“Me Grimlock sure Fulcrum will survive it.” Grimlock said, voice equally thick with static and smugness.

Fulcrum laughed, tugging Grimlock’s cable loose and twining it around his fingers, grinning wider when he felt a small shiver go through the much larger frame. “I’m sure I will.” He licked the tip of the plug and they both gasped out a moan at the large crackle of energy the flared up at the contact. Grimlock’s fingers were too big to get a good grip on Fulcrum’s cable, so he pulled his own out, Grimlock’s hand wrapping around his as he took it.

“Ready?” he asked shakily. Grimlock nodded, fingers holding Fulcrum’s cable with delicacy that would have surprised him before he’d gotten to know the dinobot. They moved at the same time, Grimlock plugging him into the smallest of his ports, and Fulcrum easing Grimlock’s into his largest one. 

The sudden surge of charge had him gasping, hands clutching at Grimlock’s frame as his optics flickered and lit up brightly. “F-frag!” Considering the size of Grimlock’s frame, he should have expected it, but there was a big difference between thinking ‘oh, that’ll be a big charge’ and actually feeling it rush through his system. Fulcrum panted, plating shifting to vent out excess heat and he pushed the charge along his own hardline, cycling it back to Grimlock as their systems started to sync.

On the next cycle, he got a little more of Grimlock, felt his pleasure, white hot as it was, and the first hint of his thoughts. Pushed it back through with his own, and with each pass of building energy, their systems linked a little more. 

He noticed some stray thoughts that were surprisingly complex and reached for them, half in curiosity, half in the need to distract himself enough not to overload embarrassingly quickly. Grimlock’s rumbling growl of pleasure vibrated through him and another wave of charge swept through his frame, leaving him trembling and clutching at Grimlock as he pushed it back through with effort. 

Once his processor wasn’t clouded with static, he noticed more of the stray though codes, all from Grimlock, and all far more intricate than he’d ever expected them to be. He prodded at a few and Grimlocks thoughts opened up. His speech was unstilted like this and from the complexity of the data flows, he was clearly intelligent, far more so than anyone on the WAP had thought.

Surprised, and mildly ashamed at the fact that he was, he stared up at Grimlock, who send a clustered bundle of smugness along with the wave of charge, which was almost too much for Fulcrum to handle. Pay attention, was the clear message, and Fulcrum let out a static blurred chuckle, releasing the thoughts and just letting himself feel. He sent the wave of charge back through with the last of his control, seeing bright flares as it traveled the hardline to Grimlock once more. Grimlock groaned and Fulcrum could see the shimmers of heat in the air between them. 

Fulcrum had just enough time to feel smug about that when Grimlock got a bright gleam under his visor, and Fulcrum had to vent heat a little faster at the sight, rolling his hips up to grind along Grimlock, those huge hands gripping his back and aft. 

“Grim—” the rest was cut off into a static-y whine as his system was flooded in white hot charge. Pleasure swamping everything else and he couldn’t hold it. He overloaded with a gasping cry and the excess energy release shot through their connection into Grimlock, who shuddered and clutched Fulcrum to his chassis as he tensed and overloaded from it. Optics flared bright then dimmed again, vents and cooling fans working overtime as metal pinged and settled. Grimlock fell back against the wall behind him with a satisfied groan, and Fulcrum went with him, limp and draped across his frame, his face planted against almost-too-hot plating, little tremors coursing through them both from the last remnants of the charge.

After a long moment, thoughts began to drift back through the connection, thick with amusement and satisfaction. Fulcrum didn’t bother moving from his spot, but the edges of his mouth curled up at the transferred emotions. 

//You’re just always full of surprises, aren’t you?// He asked, their systems fully synced and soundless communication now possible. 

The answer was a transfer of images, compiled of the whole crew, minus Grimlock, in various stages of surprise. Fulcrum chuckled, they really did look a bit ridiculous, himself included. What followed after was a long stream of audio, some bits faded, some not, of various different voices, all talking about or telling Grimlock exactly how stupid they thought he was. Fulrcum sent back his own affection, edged with regret. //I’m sorry, Grimlock. I was a part of that too for a while, when you first joined. But I’ve been watching you and you’re a clever little slagger. Sly as a turbofox. And now I’ve seen how smart you really are. Is it a glitch that makes you talk the way you do?//

Grimlock shrugged slightly. “Me Grimlock not know. Possible. Everyone think Grimlock stupid, so me Grimlock play along. Take advantage.”

Fulcrum snickered and rubbed his cheek against the plating under his helm, still feeling the warm gusts of vented air from Grimlock’s frame brushing against his own. His processor was sluggish and his frame too relaxed and sated to even consider moving away from Grimlock’s warmth. “Rest assured, I don’t think you’re stupid, haven’t thought it for a long time. But if you want to trick anyone, I won’t spoil it for you.”

Grimlock’s contented amusement came back tenfold as he let out a rumbling laugh and patted Fulcrum’s back. A mech of few words. Fulcrum could appreciate that.


	16. Checkmate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has a game they are good at, Grimlock's is a bit more surprising.

“Checkmate.”

Krok checked his internal clock and, sure enough, ten breems later; “Checkmate.”

He grinned behind his mask and Misfire snarled, chair scraping as he shoved it away to stand. “How!? How do you keep doing that?”

Krok shook his head and didn’t bother to look as Grimlock managed to make a growl sound smug. “Useless Jet think me Grimlock stupid. Now, Useless Jet know he is much more stupid than Grimlock.”

There was a series of scandalized sputters before Misfire managed actual words. “You—I—what—okay, okay, you’re smarter, but seriously? Sixteen games and you can’t even let me win one? That’s just mean, Grimsy.”

“Useless Jet get better at playing, then maybe Useless Jet win.”

And there was a badly muffled snicker from Fulcrum. Krok clung to his faked nonchalance, pretending to ignore them all. It was easier that way, he was less likely to get dragged into it. “I’d have done it for you!”

There was a pause as everyone in the room collectively shared a long moment of silent skepticism before Grimlock spoke up again. “Me Grimlock remember poker games. Lots and lots of poker games.”

He could practically hear Misfire’s wince at that. “Slag, okay… maybe not the best example of that.”

A loud snort. “Cannot think of *any* good examples.”

Luckily, Fulcrum cut in, breaking up the tension and Krok was grateful for it. There was enough of Grimlock and Misfire tearing around the small space of the ship already, he didn’t need more of it. “Come on, Grimlock, you trounced him, he didn’t have a chance. I think we can call it even.”

“But--!”

“No. We’re all good at out own games, and that’s it.”

Both Grimlock and Misfire grumbled, but settled down, and Krok sent up a silent thank you to any passing deity for giving him a break. At least until Misfire perked up again. “So, what’s Krok’s best game?”

**Author's Note:**

> Standard Disclaimers Apply- I own nothing and claim nothing from the Transformers franchise, IDW or Hasbro. This is a work of fiction made purely for fun and that makes no profit.


End file.
